"Cusha! Cusha! Cusha!" calling
Ere the early dews were falling,
Farre away I heard her song.
"Cusha! Cusha!" all along

Where the reedy Lindis floweth
Floweth, floweth,

From the meads where melick groweth,
Faintly came her milking-song.

"Cusha! Cusha! Cusha!" calling,
"For the dews will soone be falling;
Leave your meadow grasses mellow,
Mellow, mellow,

Quit your cowslips, cowslips yellow!

Come uppe, Whitefoot! come uppe, Lightfoot! Quit the stalks of parsley hollow,

Hollow, hollow!

Come uppe, Jetty! rise and follow;
From the clovers lift your head!

Come uppe, Whitefoot! come uppe, Lightfoot!
Come uppe, Jetty! rise and follow,

Jetty, to the milking-shed."

If it be long-ay, long ago

When I beginne to think howe long,

Againe I hear the Lindis flow,

Swift as an arrowe, sharpe and strong;

And all the aire, it seemeth mee,
Bin full of floating bells (sayth shee),
That ring the tune of Enderby.

Alle fresh the level pasture lay,

And not a shadowe mote be seene,
Save where, full fyve good miles away,

The steeple towered from out the greene.
And lo! the great belle farre and wide
Was heard in all the country side
"That Saturday at eventide.

The swannerds, where their sedges are,
Moved on in sunset's golden breath;
The shepherde lads I heard afarre,

And my sonne's wife, Elizabeth; Till, floating o'er the grassy sea, Came downe that kyndly message free, The Brides of Mavis Enderby.

Then some looked uppe into the sky,
And all along where Lindis flows
To where the goodly vessels lie,

And where the lordly steeple shows.
They sayde, "And why should this thing be,
What danger lowers by land or sea?
They ring the tune of Enderby.

"For evil news from Mablethorpe,
Of pyrate galleys, warping down,-
For shippes ashore beyond the scorpe,
They have not spared to wake the towne;
But while the west bin red to see,
And storms be none, and pyrates flee,
Why ring The Brides of Enderby?"

I looked without, and lo! my sonne

Came riding downe with might and main; He raised a shout as he drew on,

Till all the welkin rang again: "Elizabeth! Elizabeth!"

(A sweeter woman ne'er drew breath Than my sonne's wife, Elizabeth.)

"The old sea-wall" (he cried) "is downe!

The rising tide comes on apace;

And boats adrift in yonder towne

Go sailing uppe the market-place!"

He shook as one that looks on death:

"God save you, mother!" straight he sayth;

"Where is my wife, Elizabeth?"

"Good sonne, where Lindis winds away With her two bairns I marked her long;

And ere yon bells beganne to play,

Afar I heard her milking-song."

He looked across the grassy sea,
To right, to left, Ho, Enderby!
They rang The Brides of Enderby.

With that he cried and beat his breast;
For lo! along the river's bed
A mighty eygre reared his crest,
And uppe the Lindis raging sped.
It swept with thunderous noises loud,-
Shaped like a curling snow-white cloud,
Or like a demon in a shroud.

And rearing Lindis, backward pressed,
Shook all her trembling bankes amaine;
Then madly at the eygre's breast

Flung uppe her weltering walls again.
Then bankes came downe with ruin and rout,
Then beaten foam flew round about,—
Then all the mighty floods were out.
So farre, so fast, the eygre drave,

The heart had hardly time to beat
Before a shallow seething wave

Sobbed in the grasses at oure feet: The feet had hardly time to flee Before it brake against the knee,And all the world was in the sea.

Upon the roofe we sate that night;

The noise of bells went sweeping by;

I marked the lofty beacon light

Stream from the church tower, red and high,

A lurid mark, and dread to see;

And awesome bells they were to mee,

That in the dark rang Enderby.

They rang the sailor lads to guide,

From roofe to roofe who fearless rowed;
And I,- my sonne was at my side,
And yet the ruddy beacon glowed;
And yet he moaned beneath his breath,
"O, come in life, or come in death!
O lost, my love, Elizabeth!"

And didst thou visit him no more?

Thou didst, thou didst, my daughter deare,
The waters laid thee at his doore

Ere yet the early dawn was clear!
Thy pretty bairns in fast embrace,
The lifted sun shone on thy face,
Downe drifted to thy dwelling-place.

That flow strewed wrecks about the grass,
That ebbe swept out the flocks to sea,—
A fatal ebbe and flow, alas!

To manye more than myne and mee;
But each will mourne his own (she sayth),
And sweeter woman ne'er drew breath
Than my sonne's wife, Elizabeth.

I shall never hear her more

By the reedy Lindis shore,
"Cusha! Cusha! Cusha!" calling,
Ere the early dews be falling;
I shall never hear her song,
"Cusha! Cusha!" all along,

Where the sunny Lindis floweth,

Goeth, floweth,

From the meads where melick groweth,
Where the water winding down,
Onward floweth to the town.

I shall never see her more,

Where the reeds and rushes quiver,

Shiver, quiver,

Stand beside the sobbing river,-
Sobbing, throbbing, in its falling
To the sandy lonesome shore.

-Jean Ingelow.

HER FIRST APPEARANCE

It was the first night of "The Sultana," and every member of the Lester Comic Opera Company, from Lester himself down to the wardrobe woman's son, (who would have had to work if his mother lost her place, was sick with anxiety.

off th

As Van Bibber passed the stage door, Lester came off the stage and beckoned to him violently. "Come here," he said, "you ought to see this; the children are doing their turn. You want to hear them. They're great!"

There were over a dozen children before the footlights, with the prima donna in the center. They seemed entirely too much at home and too self-conscious to please Van Bibber, but there was one exception. The one exception was the smallest of them, a very, very little girl, with long auburn hair and black eyes; such a very little girl that every one in the house looked at her first, and then looked at no one else. She had big gentle eyes and two wonderful dimples, and in the excitement of the dancing and the singing, her eyes laughed and flashed, and the dimples deepened and disappeared and reappeared again. She was as happy and innocent looking as though it were nine in the morning and she were playing school at some kindergarten. From all over the house the women were murmuring their delight, and the men were laughing and pulling their mustaches, and nudging each other to "look at the littlest one."

There was a roar from the house that went to Lester's head like wine. There were four encores, and then the children came off jubilant and happy, with the littlest girl's arms full of flowers.

Van Bibber hunted up the wardrobe woman, and told her he wanted to meet the littlest girl.

"This is the little girl, sir. Her name is Madeline. Speak to the gentleman, Madeline; he wants to tell you what a great big hit youse made.”

The little girl was seated on one of the cushions of a double throne, so high from the ground that the young woman who was pulling off the child's silk stockings and putting woolen ones on in their place did so without stooping.

Van Bibber took the littlest girl's small hand in his and shook it solemnly and said, "I am very glad to know you. Can I sit here beside you, or do you rule alone?"

up

"Yes, ma'am - yes, sir."

He did not know exactly what to say next, and yet he wanted to talk to the child very much. top of a chest near them, and he critically." Is this your doll?"

There was a doll lying on the picked this up and surveyed it